


Zefram Goes to Vulcan

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Series: Cultural (Mis)Understandings [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: First Contact, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fingering, Here We Go With The Angst, M/M, Oral, Self-Lubricating Vulcans, The Mildest Bondage You Could Possibly Imagine, Vulcan Biology, also mentions plak tow and pon farr, but also: do yourself the favor of looking them up if you don’t know what they are !, get yourself to the nearest Memory Alpha and type it right in there, handjob, im sorry, which is all explained in-fic, which means:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Zefram accompanies Solkar to go back to Vulcan for a few months. A lot of firsts are made, but not all good.(This is a part of my Cultural (Mis)Understandings series and the two previous works should be read beforehand for a bit of context, as this fic references them occasionally. Anyway: enjoy!)





	Zefram Goes to Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload from my old account that I have deleted. The work upload was originally on February 3, 2019, and I have left it untouched so it is exactly as it was.

It had been an easy decision once Solkar had expressed that Zefram was welcome to return to Vulcan with him. He had to go. Not only would he remain close to Solkar - which, really, was the main reason if Zefram was being honest - but he would be engaged in learning about technology that was unavailable on Earth. Talk about a dream scenario.

 

What hadn’t been easy, was getting the approval needed from his human superiors to go play among the stars. Zefram hadn’t exactly gotten a surge of popularity with his co-workers after that detour to the Ozarks. He was having a hard time finding anyone who agreed that it was a good idea for him to go to Vulcan: not his bosses, who claimed they needed him on Earth for work, not his friends, who all believed he would get swallowed by a sarlacc or something worse in the Vulcan dunes.

 

There had to be a _quid pro quo_ in order for Zefram to get anywhere with his plans. He upped his skills of persuasion by strongly emphasizing that he would be bringing back ideas on technology for the company to win an advantage on the market with. Zefram of course didn’t know if the Vulcans would go so far as to share their great ideas with him - but if he could sell the concept to his own people first, he’d tackle that bear when he got to it.

 

So after many hours on conference-call featuring near-begging, Zefram got the green light. It had taken so long, Zefram was beginning to accept a scenario in which his bosses refused him and he’d have to up and quit in order to go. Approved or not, he was bringing his pre-packed duffel bag to the T’Plana-Hath with an easy mind. 

 

* * *

 

It had been clear to Zefram for a good while after first contact, after he and Solkar had found each other, that Solkar was contrasting a great deal of the Vulcan ways. 

The first night they spent together, Zefram briefly believed all Vulcans to be as Solkar was, which, in hindsight, was a rather outmoded way of thinking. Without knowing, he had gotten it into his head that aliens were all controlled by a hivemind or something equally xenophobic and cartoonish. Vulcans reflected humans more in this regard: All as individuals with different approaches to life and behavior. 

 

From what Solkar had taught Zefram, a vast majority of Vulcans followed the teachings of Surak, which dictated a way of living that, to its core, involved pacifism and a rejection of emotions in order to maintain that pacifism. ‘If you keep your feelings out of it, you can’t start a war’, basically, or so that was what Zefram had gotten from that little history lesson Solkar had given him. 

 

But Vulcans apparently interpret those teachings differently and preach them at various degrees. Solkar explained how he himself found a good deal of Surak’s ideas to be detrimental to leading a prosperous life. 

 

That was why, while their long journey was underway, Solkar had explained why he didn’t want for there to be any illusions as to what Zefram expected from other Vulcans.

“You must therefore understand that I am something of an outlier among Vulcans.” Solkar had no remorse in his voice when stating something so disheartening. “You won’t be met with Vulcans that are as open to foreigners as I have learned to be. We were all raised to reject or lessen the priority of qualities that were non-Vulcan.”

Zefram nodded slowly. He could always hope that Vulcan’s new contact with Earth meant more understanding from both sides. He thought about how humans had reacted to the T’Plana-Hath’s landing, that there would always be people who accepted and those who rejected the strange in life.

 

* * *

 

“The surface temperature on Shi’Khar is approximately 39 degrees celsius at the present hour. In your current outfit you would put yourself at a high risk of heat stroke not long after we disembark.” Solkar held out a dark and patterned garment for Zefram to take. “This is a Vulcan robe that will not only shield your entire body from solar radiation, but it will cool you down more efficiently than if you were to merely take your outer layers off. It is best worn on its own.”

Zefram accepted the light fabric, pulling it by the shoulders so that he could see the shape of it. It looked just like any old hooded djellaba, beautifully patterned and silken in texture. 

“Best worn on its own, huh? That’s not just your way of getting me to strip naked under the guise of survival, is it?” Zefram smugly grinned.

 

Solkar’s expression went rigid, his eyes blinked slowly in the moment of hesitation before his reply. “No.” 

But he couldn’t hold a smile back for long, especially not when Zefram was beaming with self-satisfied confidence as he removed his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Zefram felt more self-conscious than he had in a long time as the ship was getting ready to land on Shi’Kahr base. It was daunting to think that he’d be the first human to tread Vulcan ground, as if being the first human to make contact with aliens wasn’t intimidating enough already. ‘ _A lot of firsts will be made this week,_ ’ Zefram tried to tell himself in an effort to balance out his shaky hands. _‘And I won’t be alone.’_

 

He knew, as he had agreed with Solkar, that any public display of affection was out. Yet Zefram needed a hand to hold or a shoulder to touch now more than ever. All he had was Solkar’s empathic gaze to hold onto as they were standing close by the exit, waiting for touchdown.

 

The T’Plana-Hath made contact with the ground softly. The landing ramp initiated its extension. Solkar and Zefram would exit last after everyone else had gotten into their positions outside by the ship; all had to stand in a certain way in front of the welcoming-committee, Solkar and Zefram included. Zefram had of course not been a part of the original landing-procedures, so Solkar made the executive decision to have him stand by his side in lieu of his First Officer, who would normally take up that spot. He claimed that important guests are above regular procedure, so it would not offend any of Solkar’s crew. Still didn’t make Zefram feel less clammy and self-aware.

 

Upon taking his first step out into the open, Zefram was immediately hit with sensations of the elements surrounding him; the thin, hot atmosphere, the orange sky from which the sun beat down, the red sands beneath them which felt rough against his boots. Not far away from the landing-site was a skyline with metallic and stone-like buildings curling in the distance. Further ahead were mountain ranges, appearing to be just as red as the ground.

 

Zefram now focused his attention on the committee before them. Some of the Vulcans at the front were dressed in a somewhat similar style to what Solkar had been wearing back in Montana; dark, heavy robes with shiny detailing and layers upon layers. Others wore the same type of robe Zefram was.

 

He hadn’t thought about it before now, but another reason for him to wear a Vulcan robe was for him to blend in better with Vulcan ideals. A cunning tactic of tricking someone into thinking you are part of the herd, to speak to someone’s visual memory through something as simple as an outfit. If Zefram had kept his lambskin coat, Hawaii shirt and fingerless gloves on, their perception of him would be much more severe, probably. He had the hood pulled over his head before they disembarked, Zefram hoped it would shield him well enough for now.

 

All was quiet until a Vulcan, after bringing his hand up to form the salute, spoke: 

“Commander Solkar. We formally congratulate you on a successful mission being completed. The reports are sufficient with new information of planet Earth, and I trust that you represented Vulcan accurately while ashore.”

 

Solkar had replicated the gesture as soon as he had raised it at him. “I thank you for your recognition of our efforts, Councilor Sumock. Vulcan was respectfully represented, as I can assure all crew members acted with utmost civility.” He let his hand descend again and referred to Zefram with it. “I present the esteemed council with an ambassadorial guest, the human Zefram Cochrane of Missouri. He holds an engineering doctorate and for a good reason; he is the man who devised the technology that enabled humans to achieve warp speed.”

 

Zefram had practiced the salutation since his first failed attempt. He could now sport a near-perfect trident of fingers without straining too much. He didn’t know what to say next, he had completely forgotten that part. Luckily, that Sumock fella respectfully answered with a ta’al as well. “What are your intentions with your visit, Zefram Cochrane?” He asked.

 

“I intend to study Vulcan and its people in every which way my abilities allow, so that I can bring my documentations back to Earth and represent you for the public, sir.” Now this, Zefram fortunately did remember.

 

Sumock nodded subtly. “As Commander Solkar’s guest you are allowed this, but be advised that while on our planet, you are bound by Vulcan regulations. Your stay is limited, and the Commander is responsible for your actions as per our law. I suggest you become acquainted with it.” He drily stated before continuing on a lighter note: “Other than that, I welcome you to Vulcan.”

 

Zefram swallowed with unease. The air already felt too hot and thin. 

 

* * *

 

In the aircar they drove in to get home from the air-base, Solkar drove by every monument of any significance and explained them to Zefram, who listened with great interest. It felt like a luxury to have Solkar guide him around so gently. Especially after that frying-pan of a reception, Zefram needed something familiar in the form of Solkar’s soothing voice and wisdom to cool him down. 

 

Solkar took them both to his home, an architectural monolith of a house, built in stone with fences(or maybe they were just pieces of art) curling in all kinds of filigree-like shapes around and inside it. Zefram knew he was staring wildly around, he didn’t care; he was on Vulcan, for chrissakes, every little speck of dust and chair-leg was fascinating to him at that moment. While he was fully occupied staring up and about, Solkar was surreptitiously watching him with adoration. He couldn’t believe his luck, among other things. 

Solkar toured them through every room, all of which seemed well-known to Zefram as the house had a kitchen, bathroom, living room, office, and bedrooms. 

“Which is your bedroom?”

“The master bedroom, straight ahead.” Solkar took them inside a spacious, light-filled room, a square bed centered. And it was big, too, a bed far too big for just one person. Zefram ran his fingers over the beautifully artistic headboard of metal latticework, cool to the touch. 

“It’s all so beautiful.” He had truly never seen such a home, despite how it contained all the elements of an Earth house. It was special, and it was Solkar’s, so Zefram couldn’t help but love it.

 

“You may sleep here too, of course.” Solkar walked up to him to stand near, just in case - something. “If you wish to. There is a guest bedroom as well if you need privacy.”

Zefram’s cheeks warmed in a smile. He straightened a non-existent fold on Solkar’s robe, then clung to it. “Oh, I’d like to stay put here.”

Solkar realized that they hadn’t had a moment truly alone in days. He leaned forward for a stubbly kiss. It was getting late in the evening. Dropping down on the covers and sliding Zefram’s robe over his thighs wasn’t an incongruous action, then. 

“Oooh, easy access!” Zefram remarked in that moment when Solkar slid the robe all the way over him, leaving him nearly completely naked again and making Solkar laugh a bit. He helped him out of his boots with another kiss. 

 

* * *

 

Waking up on Vulcan didn’t feel as foreign to Zefram as he thought it would. He was brought back to his experiences with growing up without built-in airconditioning and how waking up in the summer felt. Being in Solkar’s bed was a definite step up. It was designed for the climate, it seemed even Vulcans did not sleep with a duvet in that heat. Zefram was covered only with the thinnest sheet of a silk-like fabric that felt like a ghost of a blanket more than anything else.

 

He stretched out but felt that Solkar was missing from his side. Zefram cracked a sleep-filled eye to look around the bed, he wasn’t on there. He spotted him sitting on the floor a few feet away, his legs tucked under him, neck straightened, eyes closed. He seemed to be meditating. What also gave it away was the little station in front of him containing something burning that smelled like incense. 

 

Zefram decided it was best to not interfere, so he laid his head back on the pillow and shut his eyes. He wasn’t exactly gonna pretend to be sleeping, but what else could he do? It would be a dick move to start his daily routine, which would make a lot of noise, and therefore disturb Solkar’s sensitive ears. 

 

Maybe half an hour passed before Zefram heard the sound of Solkar’s feet against the stone floor, patting around one spot, possibly clearing the incense or stretching. 

 

Zefram decided to ‘wake’ and sit up. “Good morning,” He said. Solkar did not look the least surprised to see and hear him being awake. 

“Good morning.” He answered, walking over to stand nearest the edge of Zefram’s side of the bed. “Did I awaken you?”

 

“You mean just now? Absolutely not. I’ve been awake for a bit now. You probably knew that.” Zefram scooted across the bed to sit on the edge, swinging his legs over it, his feet placed on either side of Solkar.

 

“Yes, I did.” Solkar replied with his signature smirk. He rested his hands on Zefram’s shoulders.

“What were you up to?” Zefram’s own hands went up to take a hold of Solkar’s hips. He got a chance to feel the short robe Solkar was wearing. It was colored the darkest shade of red and made from the same silky garment as the sheets. 

 

“I was meditating. I have been neglecting my routine meditations for a while now, so this was long overdue.”

Zefram hoped internally that the neglect had not started back when Solkar had begun spending more of his time with him. “Well, you looked very - composed.” Zefram looked up at Solkar.

 

At least Solkar had looked composed, because the truth was that his concentration had been down by twenty-three percent and all he could do to make up for it was extend his meditation. 

He kept drifting toward thoughts of Zefram, his katra felt like it had been pulled by tangible thoughts of going back to the bed, to have Zefram’s bristly chest pressed against his back once more, maybe Zefram’s cock had hardened from sleep and slipped between the cleft of Solkar’s thighs in their embrace, ready for new pleasures to wake up to. He really enjoyed it when that happened, he couldn’t explain why. 

 

Solkar didn’t want to restrain those thoughts, so the meditation was ultimately unsuccessful. He was standing there, Zefram looking into his eyes, his hands on Solkar’s hips, although if it were up to Solkar, he would have liked them slipped further back around him. His robe was short, cut off at the mid-thigh, too short to keep secrets. 

 

He put a knee on either side of Zefram, sitting himself astride in his lap. The hands finally got the hint and slid back to support Solkar’s posterior. Solkar’s own hands went up to cup Zefram’s jaw, fingers brushing his ears to feel the soft skin. Zefram’s muted blue eyes were smiling, the little crinkles all around his face coming into sight at the sensation. Solkar almost forgot that he had done all that in order to kiss Zefram, because kissing him would mean not seeing his beaming face.

 

Solkar’s pelvis inched forward to press against Zefram’s naked waist. The cock of Solkar was up and barely held behind the loose curtain of robe-fabric as he pushed it to Zefram’s supple belly. In their kiss, Zefram chuckled at the familiar contact. He moved a hand to raise the opening of the robe, getting a look at Solkar’s wetting cock. 

 

He was getting hard himself, a lot of it attributed to the image of Solkar straddling him for a kiss in this ridiculously sexy robe. Okay, Zefram would admit that maybe not everyone would find a plain, functional robe sexy. Maybe it was just him. The important fact was that the robe was on Solkar, who was inherently, indisputably attractive. And the robe could be so easily slipped off, baring Solkar’s entrance for him. Zefram’s cock was twitching with anticipation at the prospect of being inside him, all he needed was to move a few inches in the right direction.

 

But Solkar had other plans, it seemed. He broke away from their most recent kiss to look at Zefram again. Because throughout all this, his hands that had migrated to hold onto the sparse hair on Zefram’s head, those hands wanted to be elsewhere. 

 

Solkar had been invaded by thoughts of melding, of pin-pointing the psi-points on Zefram’s face and have him all to himself. His rational concentration had clearly not regained itself after the meditation. He knew his urges to meld had gotten regrettably stronger over the months. He needed to do something about it.

 

“There is something I would like you to do, if you’re comfortable with doing it,” Solkar said.

In Zefram’s eagerness, he interrupted the pause: “What is it?”

“I would like you to restrain my hands. Whichever way you’d prefer.”

 

Zefram knew already he was not opposed to this. “Okay. Okay. How - tight can it be?” 

“I can endure a lot of strain, much more than you should worry about. The more restrained, the better.” With Solkar’s strength, it would be a symbolic restraint more than anything. Still, his heart was threatening to burst out of his side from the thought of Zefram pinning him down with all his human strength.

 

With a small nod and a thinking brow, Zefram decided to take Solkar onto the bed in a turn of their bodies. With Solkar on his back, Zefram brought his wrists up above his head, temporarily holding them down with a hand. 

 

After a beat of thinking, Zefram’s free hand went down to Solkar’s waist. The belt of his robe was so loosely tied, he only needed one hand to tug it off him. This made the robe fall open at last, revealing a pale highway stretching from the hairs on his chest down to his leaking cock. 

 

Zefram laid down to get the best reach, taking the silk strap up to wind around both of Solkar’s wrists. He tied them with a tightness that he hoped was enough for the Vulcan. The remainder of the band went up to the headboard where Zefram secured it around the metal filigree. “How’s that?”

 

“It is well done.” Solkar answered, “Thank you.” 

Zefram said ‘You’re welcome’ with an open-mouthed kiss, his body still flush against Solkar’s. He aligned himself with his body to press their cocks together in a slippery motion that made it impossible for them to lie perfectly, so Zefram kept moving around and Solkar yearned to moan despite being kissed. 

 

Eventually, Zefram decided to remove himself to look at his work: Solkar laying flat, his arms stretched out and laying just as flat above his head with his wrists attached to the headboard. He looked wonderfully greenish-yellow in the morning light, flushed and heated from the kisses they had shared, his breathing heavy and his heart feeling like a hummingbird’s wings once again when Zefram slid his hands over the sides of his ribcage. He would somehow always be reminded of that whenever he felt Solkar’s heart in its excited state.

 

His hands moved down to settle the thumbs in the cavity of a bellybutton. For some reason, Zefram loved that Vulcans had bellybuttons. It was another bridge between their species that brought familiarity with it. He could literally do navel-gazing all day if it had to be Solkar’s navel.

 

But Solkar’s very hard cock was mere inches from him and looking forsaken. That would change as Zefram re-focused himself and went down to slide his hand up that cock, reveling in the wetness as he took a better grip of it around its head, sliding with ease down the base. 

 

It was now that Solkar was extremely grateful his hands had been tied. The urges were sated just enough for it not to be unbearable. Although he did long to touch Zefram back, to take his cock into his hands as well and let him forget about melding for even just a second at a time. 

 

Zefram let go only to use his grip to part Solkar’s legs wide. He laid down to be eye-level with where those legs parted, getting an immediate scent of the clean, almost metallic lubricant that had coated Solkar involuntarily. His hand went back to pumping Solkar but the other lowered to get a feel of his ring of muscle. 

 

He circled it before his finger slipped in with ease, like it was pulled in by the muscles surrounding it. Zefram didn’t look up to see Solkar’s expression, but he clearly heard his lips make a relieved sigh. 

 

But nothing had been relieved for Solkar. With his more frequent thoughts of melding and a rather increased sex drive, Solkar did fear that his _pon farr_ had set into motion early. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it would mean he had to face yet another difficult aspect of Vulcan biology to explain to Zefram. If he couldn’t pull together the courage to tell him about melding, how could he expect to be able to tell him about _pon farr_? There were certainly moments where Solkar could swear his mind clouded with arousal as if _plak tow_ had set in. When Zefram entered another finger inside him, for one, that took him a second to recover from. 

 

This heightened sensitivity meant Solkar was already close, he tried to delay his orgasm, but the slow, deliberate thrusting of Zefram’s fingers in combination with his grip around Solkar’s cock overruled all thought. Everything twitched and clenched as Solkar came with a pathetic whimper.

 

Zefram was surprised at how fast that had transpired. He removed his fingers from inside, keeping a hold of Solkar’s softening cock for now. He wanted to make sure he was cleaned, so Zefram reached under the bed for a fresh towellette to wipe the ejaculate off Solkar’s stomach with, then took his limp cock into consideration with no protest from Solkar. 

 

Once Zefram had gotten up to stretch his shoulders, he could stretch far enough to lay kisses on Solkar’s mouth again. He caressed his bound wrists with care. “You don’t want these off by now?”

 

Solkar had almost forgotten in his pleasure that his wrists were irritated from the restraints after doing a lot of writhing in them. At least his post-orgasm mind was cleared enough to suppress his urge to meld now. “I would like them off.”

 

Zefram had somehow not expected that answer, so he fumbled with the knots and tried to remember how he had tied it in the first place. Once the silk band was off, he looked at his consequences with a worrisome feeling: both wrists were blushed green and had sharp lines in the skin where the strap had dug in. Zefram brought them down to the sides of Solkar’s head, careful not to squeeze them in the wrong place. 

 

He had an overwhelming urge to kiss the affected spots all over, which made Solkar smile. “What are you doing?”

“When you have an injury, you gotta - y’know, you gotta kiss it better.” Even Zefram was smiling at the ridiculousness now. It became an infectious laughter.

 

He eventually had to get up from the bed with a groan and a stretch of his joints. “You wanna get some breakfast?”

Solkar had pulled himself up to his elbows. What gave him pause, was that Zefram was still more than half-hard despite the inattention to him. Instead of standing up, Solkar slid off the bed to be on his knees in front of Zefram. His palms went up to feel the soft skin of the hips ahead of him. “Can I take care of you first?” 

 

Zefram looked bewildered for the second time today, and it was only early morning. His cock twitched at the proposal, almost going up to tap Solkar on his chin. God, the way he looked up at him, it made it hard to be humble and decline. He curled his fingers in Solkar’s hair just to watch his look of contentment at having his scalp massaged. 

“That would be fine with me.” Zefram’s suddenly dry mouth uttered.

 

Solkar smirked. He knew what kind of effect he had on him. 

A hand went low to caress and cup around Zefram’s testicles, the other hand went up to guide the cock to Solkar’s lips. Zefram twitched instinctively at the attention. He desperately tried to swallow so as to not feel so dry in the throat.

 

Solkar’s lips parted as the head passed by them. With deliberate slowness he went down little by little, avoiding any unwelcome gagging. Once he stopped to wait before pulling back, a sigh escaped Zefram’s throat. 

His hips already wanted to jerk forward into Solkar but his brain told him it would potentially choke him, so his body and mind reached a compromise in which his hips merely trembled. Luckily, Solkar began to slide back and forth at a reasonable pace to sate Zefram’s traitorous hips. 

 

With the motion Solkar was making, his robe shook with it, and little by little, finally slipped off his shoulders, unnoticed by the wearer. Zefram, however, did notice and took the opportunity to feel a pale shoulder with his shuddering fingers. Up the column of Solkar’s throat his fingertips went, briefly sensing the movement’s effect on an Adam’s apple before stroking Solkar by the outstretched skin of his jaw. His fingers felt firsthand how Solkar worked his jaw to accommodate Zefram’s cock going in, then letting his jaw up again when sliding away. There was something scientific about this exploration, only far more exhilarating, Zefram found in between his deep breaths. 

 

His fingertips moved further up still, brushing at the side of Solkar’s warmed face. While Solkar worked his mouth, he felt the nearly correct positioning of Zefram’s fingers to his psi points. Only he of course didn’t touch all five at the same time so the full, desired response was not reached. It still thrilled and sowed hope in Solkar that he had been touched so by Zefram, even if it was inadvertent.

 

With Solkar’s hand and mouth around Zefram’s cock going at a building speed, his other hand feeling up Zefram’s testicles, it wasn’t long before the old, warm sensation closed in on him, prompting Zefram to mutter that he would be coming. Solkar did not waiver, only kept going, feeling through the spasms of Zefram’s release all the way from the cock in his mouth to the tensing of the testicles, to Zefram’s fingers clenching in his hair again. Solkar only ground to a stop once Zefram’s body de-tensed with a relieved exhale.

 

Solkar pulled away, careful with sealing his lips after. While he looked around the room for a solution to his problem, Zefram couldn’t help but think that Solkar’s neutral but slightly strained expression around his lips made him look like a guilty child hiding a frog in his mouth. Finally, Solkar found a cup on the bedside table to spit in and Zefram was allowed to do a closed-mouthed laugh. Luckily, Solkar could see the humor in all of that. 

 

Once they were clean and dressed, Zefram’s question of breakfast arose again and was agreed on mutually this time.

 

* * *

 

At around noon that same day, Solkar announced to Zefram that his father would be coming for a visit. He had just gotten off the communicator with him minutes before and Solkar informed Zefram that it would be a brief visit, but that his father would arrive within the hour as well, on such short notice. Zefram knew not to look in Solkar’s face for any potential reaction at this sudden drop-in, but to observe his hands. Solkar held them behind his back, which Zefram knew he only did when he didn’t want anyone to see him wringing them tensely. Zefram thought he’d tread carefully and not ask more than necessary or overstep any boundaries. He went upstairs to put on his Vulcan robe instead. 

 

Not half an hour later, an aircar arrived and Solkar was by the door immediately. Zefram observed from the sideline how he greeted his father and how his father greeted back in the traditional Vulcan fashion: detached and unemotional. 

Unfortunately, all the verbal proceedings happened in Golic, so Zefram could not follow. It wasn’t long however, before Solkar, the graceful host, translated for him.

“Zefram, this is my father, Karmock.” And he switched back to Golic to say something to Karmock, of which Zefram only recognized one word: his own name. Karmock said something in reply and Solkar’s head swiveled back to Zefram to relay new information: 

“He greets you and expresses respect for your efforts in Earth’s first contact.”

Zefram tried not to show his surprise at the praise. “Well, thank you. I have equal respect for your son’s actions at first contact.” Zefram hoped it didn’t sound too vague or too - anything, really. He didn’t usually meet his lovers’ parents. It had certainly been a while since he had had genuine in-laws.

 

Solkar translated calmly and got a nod in response from his father before silence befell them all. Zefram had also never had in-laws whom he couldn’t speak directly to, so it was yet another awkward frontier to pass. 

 

Karmock looked at Zefram sternly and then back to his son. “Solkar, I shall need to speak to you privately.”

Solkar’s expression grew more serious. “Are you certain it is not a subject we can discuss with my guest present?”

But his father had clearly set his mind on something. “I am certain.”

 

Solkar hesitantly turned to Zefram. “I apologize, Zefram - would it be possible for you to leave me and my father alone for a while?”

Zefram didn’t really feel like there was a choice. And as a guest, you had to be generous and take a hint from your host. 

 

“I think I’ll go for a walk round the garden. You can find me out there later.” He walked away, through the arched doorway, into the open. Solkar watched him as he tread carefully around the succulent shrubbery.

But he had to turn to look at his father again for an explanation. “What did you wish to speak of with me?”

 

Karmock walked calmly to a lounging chair, sitting down in it. Solkar made no move to sit in the chair beside his. He waited for him to speak first.

“Two-point-four hours after your arrival on Earth, we received transmission of your conduct in Montana.” Karmock poured half a cup of tea for himself from the tea-table beside the chairs. Solkar had prepared it before his arrival, just in case.

“The transmission specifically included the manner with which you handled the reception. What caused you to believe that touching a human would be worth your mission?”

 

Solkar bristled but kept it inwardly. He hadn’t expected this to be the first question his father would ask him in months.

“Father, you know that we researched human formalities extensively beforehand - I did not go into my duty as the commander of the T’Plana-Hath unprepared for the probable situation that I would encounter a human that would touch me, or that I would have to touch them in order to avoid the consequence that Vulcans would be seen as discourteous by humans for declining a handshake.”

 

Karmock sipped from his cup before setting it back on its saucer. “From the descriptions I have been informed of, your contact with Cochrane was not limited to a mere touch. It was a touching of hands. And now that he is here, staying in your home, I can see that your intimate contact has been prolonged.”

 

Solkar stiffened. He made the grave mistake of glancing out the archway into the garden, spotting Zefram for just a split-second. He was still exploring quietly. Solkar knew Karmock had seen him look. “Of precisely _what_ is it, you have been told that I did in Montana?” Solkar asked and thought: _‘That which you disapprove of so evidently?’_

 

Karmock was looking Solkar in the eye with a cold neutrality. “You risked creating a bond when you took his hand. And from what your crew mates have reported, the contact lingered on for seventeen-point-eight seconds until you uncoupled. I find that an abnormal long while to be linked to someone’s hand, even more so when it is the hand of a stranger. I can only conclude that because of the elongated contact, you were affected by his katra. Were you, Solkar?”

 

Solkar digested the words. For some reason he felt guilt. Yet his mind went back to the moment when he had touched Zefram for the first time. He had remembered their handshake being longer than seventeen-point-eight seconds. He knew that someone in his crew must have been counting for the sake of the report, so it was likely a true fact Karmock had stated.

 

“I had been informed of the risks. It is not news to me that touching someone, almost anyone sentient, intelligent and compatible, bears the prospect of forming a bond. However, I was not willing to fail my mission, and therefore fail Vulcan.”

 

Solkar knew his father was dissatisfied with his way of avoiding an answer. He made it clear in his following answer to him:

“It was remiss of you to act so. You claim to know the consequences of a bond, yet you have never made one - I warned you. You know it is heedless of a Vulcan to bond to a human. He will die within the next half-century and you will suffer the ramifications.” Karmock rose to be eye-level with his son again. “A Vulcan whose partner dies before them will diminish into a depressive state or be driven to madness. Your life will be taken from you before your time - all because of a simple desire.”

 

Solkar had only now noticed that he had gripped his own hand so tight behind his back, his circulation had been cut off enough for his hand to have blanched. He released it with an exhale and brought them in front of himself again. 

“You neglected mentioning the fact that a meld must be made for a bond to be fully formed. I had not forgotten, Karmock.” He looked him in the eye, unwavering, hoping against all hopes that his father would not see him trembling.

 

“That brings me relief to know.” Karmock drily stated. He finally moved out of Solkar’s way, heading for the main door. “I shall go now, I am needed back at the academy. And I believe, so are you.”

“Yes, father. I am aware.” Once Karmock had left the room, Solkar felt like he couldn’t breathe for just a moment. 

 

A reminder stuck with him. One from back when he had agreed to partake in the research-team for Earth Sciences & Cultures. He remembered Karmock telling him about his own experiences with human behaviour, of what he had seen and heard of from afar, and there was one sentence that had stuck with Solkar:

 

“ _Humans are everything Surak, and all of civilized Vulcan, have opposed becoming, and for that reason alone, Vulcans should not interfere too closely with humans_.”

 

Because when he had heard it spoken, everything in him had revolted in disbelief. Deep down, he knew it to be untrue, and he knew it now more than ever before. 

A deep breath. When Solkar opened his eyes again and looked into the garden, he was reminded of himself as a little child. He had been maybe eight years of age when he had been running through the garden, chasing a bird. He remembered stopping once the bird had decided to fly toward the sky instead of low to the ground, that he had had a realization: that what he was feeling was wrong. 

 

His teacher would have reprimanded him if he looked at a bird, not with the intention of studying it, but to indulge in it childishly. The young Solkar had looked at it, hoping that if he chased it fast enough that he too would fly. He didn’t need to remind himself of his lessons in aerodynamics to know that it was an impossible whim. But the whim felt so good, so right, to run after it. He remembered feeling _elated_. But still well-knowing that what he did was wrong, that it was what a pre-Surak Vulcan would do, he did not regret it. He still did not regret it. 

 

Solkar had found over the years that if you fight to suppress your negative emotions; your hatred, your jealousy, your murderous thoughts, you would also have to completely inhibit your positivity: your childish whimsy born out of curiosity. Your excitement upon the discovery of a planet with intelligent life forms. Your pure feelings of joy from when you look into the eyes of your t’hy’la.

To be without those, that was no life. None that Solkar knew of, none that he would partake in. He had known this since that bird had flown away from him.

 

Solkar tread out the door, finding Zefram relatively nearby. He was standing by the garden’s fountain. Zefram looked to Solkar with a smile that unfortunately faded quickly into worry. “Hey, what’s that on you?” His hand reached up to Solkar’s face, hovering with uncertainty.

 

Solkar touched his cheek, wiping the water from it. “It’s only a droplet from the fountain that landed on me.”

 

* * *

 

It’s normal for little kids to stare. So Zefram had expected a lot of little heads turning toward him when he would be out in the streets and he had expected correctly. 

 

At first, Zefram believed it was just the word of his arrival that had spread fast, which was why he was so noticeable even with his hood hanging over his face. But it was everyone in the vicinity that stared. Especially the elderly Vulcans held their concentration the longest. At least the children lost interest or moved on fast enough for Zefram not to worry.

 

He didn’t know what it was that instantly gave him away. Not until he had the opportunity to ask Solkar in the privacy of their bedroom after another long day of those glares.

“I suspected they would know, no matter how much you covered up. Vulcans have a keen sense of smell, much greater than that of a human.” Solkar answered.

Zefram frowned at the new information. “How great?”

“If you were in a desert with no lake in sight, it would be to your advantage to be able to pick up the scent of the water from circa a mile away, so that you would know which way lead to your survival. That is approximately the Vulcan experience.”

“You’re telling me all Vulcans can smell me and all my human sweat, for miles?

“It would explain it.”

 

Zefram’s face became a mask of exasperation that made Solkar smile inwardly.

 

* * *

 

Back on Earth, Solkar had told Zefram briefly about his son. The boy’s name was Skon and he was only four years old, if you count in Earth years. Solkar had not wished to elaborate when Zefram had asked him about this son of his. Yet now that they were on Vulcan, Solkar seemed more at ease with the subject.

 

“Skon will be home tomorrow. He has been on an extended excursion with his teachers, they are to arrive back in Shi’Kahr tomorrow evening. I would like to meet him at the city border so that he can return home with me.” Solkar took a sip from his tea. They were in the middle of breakfast when he brought the subject up.

“Sounds nice. Can I come with you?” Zefram bit into a fruit.

“If you wish. I would definitely like to have you accompany me.” Solkar answered, making Zefram smile.

 

A moment of contemplative silence passed. Zefram had been thinking about something. “If you don’t mind me asking… Where is Skon’s mother in all this?”

Solkar didn’t exactly look uneasy, but it was definitely not a fun topic. “She chooses not to be involved with Skon’s childhood. She comes from the far east side of Vulcan and she stays there, while I have chosen to stay here. We could not make raising Skon work with the distance. So he lives here, with the rest of his family.”

 

Zefram’s expression had become empathic. “I see. But he’s been gone for a while on a school trip?”

“Yes, I suppose you can say that. His education depends on exploring Vulcan, even from such an early age. He has been on a trek of the Hock’Ra valley for 34.2 days now.”

 

It immediately struck Zefram how his caretaker-instincts were crying out at the information given him. To let a four-year old spend days and nights in an environment like Vulcan’s - and to have them be away from home for more than a month … Zefram couldn’t believe it. 

 

He needed reassurance. “And it’s safe to take a four-year old into the Vulcan wilderness and have him be away from his family for a month?”

“I suspected it would worry you. He is safe with his teachers, I can assure you. If he was not relatively safe, he would not be in Hock’Ra.” Solkar offered a sympathetic look.

“You say ‘relatively safe’, like it’s not actually what you’re saying.” Zefram made a skeptic smile in return.

“Living in general is only ‘relatively safe’, Zefram. If I wished for my son to be ‘completely safe’, I would encase him in a bubble.” And that was the end of that.

 

* * *

 

Solkar had driven them in the aircar beyond the city center, coming to a halt at the frontier separating Shi’Kahr from the adjacent mountain-lands. Solkar clearly knew exactly which entrance Skon would arrive at. They waited something like ten minutes before Solkar spotted a figure in the distance, two tall shapes and a smaller one walking toward them from up the ranges. 

Soon Zefram could see them too, and before long they were standing in front of them. The teachers were two women carrying all their belongings in almost comically large rucksacks. And leading them was a little boy.

 

A Vulcan’s growth was somewhat similar to a human’s, which was even more evident now to Zefram as he saw Skon: he had all the features of a typical four-year old: the moony face with eyes that were too big for his little skull, feet that were undoubtedly smaller than the palm of Zefram’s hand and stubby legs. He also had the same perfectly black haircut of his father and curious little eyebrows shaped into a point.

So his build was right, but his posture was nothing like that of a four-year old human kid. He was posed like an adult, wearing his clothes and hair neatly. Not a normal look for someone who had spent a month in the desert. 

He kept his hands clasped behind his back as he stood there in his tiny shoes and uniform, and all Zefram could think about was that most four-year olds he had known could barely speak a coherent sentence or even keep spaghetti out of their hair.

 

After Solkar had greeted the teachers, he went over to stand as a buffer between Zefram and his little boy. “Skon, this is Zefram Cochrane; he is an engineer, from Earth, and my good friend. He is visiting us for the next few months. Why don’t you show him some good manners and greet him?” 

Skon looked up at Zefram and raised his hand to make the smallest ta’al Zefram thought he’d ever see. “Live long and prosper, Zefram Cochrane of Earth.” Skon spoke in perfectly clear English, impressing Zefram once more.

He felt compelled to return the gesture, throwing in a smile as well. The boy looked from him and back to his father, a questioning look in his outstanding dark eyes. “Do humans also greet each other by performing the ta’al?”

Zefram also felt compelled to answer: “Uh, well, no. When we say hello or goodbye, we -“ 

 

It occurred to him in that moment that telling Skon about the human shaking of hands was maybe not the best idea at that time. Given the child’s obvious high intelligence, he was likely in the know about the significance of hand-touching. Zefram was not about to embarrass all humans by making a Vulcan believe they all kissed whenever they said ‘hi’. ‘ _Unless you’re French, that is,_ ’ Zefram’s derailed mind thought, before he finished his sentence:

“We wave. Like so,” and his flat palm went up again to do a little shake.

 

The boy nodded with interest. Solkar gave Zefram a look that said: ‘ _Good save_.’

 

* * *

 

The aircar ride home was silent for the first minute, until Skon spoke up: “Zefram, you are a human. Correct?”

Zefram noticed how the boy was raised to be polite and therefore referred to Zefram by what he thought was his formal last name. Vulcans of course had their last names first, so he must have thought it worked the same for Zefram. What was more important, was that Zefram had no intentions of correcting him. “I am, yes.”

“I have studied humans with my father. There are many aspects of Earth that I find fascinating.” The boy held his gaze with a frighteningly strong intent. It was those eyes, the impossibly dark eyes that Zefram could have sworn were unblinking. But he was probably exaggerating.

“Yeah, like what?” He replied.

“From Earth’s avifauna, there is a _Menura novaehollandiae_ , which is capable of replicating any sound it hears.” Skon said.

Zefram squinted, remembering something. “A _lyrebird_?” Why did he know the latin name for a Lyrebird? He recalled something about a nature documentary on TV he saw as a kid. The presenter, a whats-his-name Attenborough, was wandering about the Australian flora with a bird that could replicate the sound of a car alarm like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“I’ll give you that, it is pretty impressive watching that bird imitate an airhorn.”

“It should not be biologically possible. That is why I find it fascinating.” Skon stated. 

“We also have animals that use camouflage by changing color. I always found those to be sort of biologically impossible.” Zefram thought about the chameleons and fishes that change color or even appearance by puffing up or slimming down in different survival-situations.

“You mean like the _Bothus mancus_ or _Thaumoctopus mimicus_?” Skon questioned, sounding like a tiny encyclopedia. 

“The… _Peacock flounder_? And the _mimic octopus_?” Zefram was feeling something he hadn’t in years: the satisfaction that random trivia he had learned from TV-shows was paying off in real life.

Skon had a quizzical look about him. If Zefram was in a panel-show at that moment, it could be called ‘ _Are you smarter than a 4-year old Vulcan?_ ’. He was probably tied at that point. 

“Why do you refer to them by alternative names?” Skon asked.

It seemed to Zefram, that Vulcans had wire-tapped Earth with such a scientific approach they had not considered the common names for any of the animals. 

“On Earth, we have at least two names for all animals - actually, for all lifeforms. The latin ones, which you seem to know a lot of, and the names that people who aren’t scientists use, just the common names that are translated into every language.”

Skon took it in. “It seems illogical.”

Zefram shrugged. “Language rarely is. But we like to think it’s easier to say ‘ _cat_ ’ instead of ‘ _Felis silvestris catus_ ’. You see? Maybe not entirely illogical after all.”

Now Skon was hit with a conundrum of logic versus illogic. His little, sharp brain was working out if it made more sense to shorten names for efficiency or to keep the latin. “I shall need to do more research before I can present an argument, Zefram. I would require more information from you; you seem to have a lot of knowledge about Earth.”

 

Solkar chimed in from the front seat. “Skon, do not bother Zefram with any more questions if he does not wish to answer them. It would be discourteous.”

“He’s not bothering me at all, Solkar, it’s all good. I’ll do my very best to answer, but I can’t guarantee that I can keep up with your fancy computers.” Zefram raised a playful eyebrow at Skon. The kid seemed almost amused by it. There existed such an amused-but-neutral expression among Vulcans.

“Zefram, I have questions about what you on Earth call cetology, specifically in relation to -“

 

Ah. Zefram had spoken too soon about being able to keep up with Skon. 

 

* * *

 

Dinner that evening was quiet. Zefram did take note of how Solkar acted when in front of his son compared to when he was alone with Zefram. It was Vulcan etiquette to not speak during meals, for the sake efficiency. When he and Solkar were by themselves, they could freely indulge in all of human etiquette. But Solkar had expressed a wish to keep Skon close to specific traditions. Zefram could accept that.

 

The boy excused himself to his room for studies. He had told Zefram earlier about a botanical experiment he had left in the care of the keeper of the house while he had been in Hock’Ra. He was excited to a regular, Vulcan degree when he had been telling him about the prospect of gathering his evidence and drawing conclusions that evening. 

It reminded Zefram of a piece of old, old Earth ephemera that was once popular with very small kids. He remembered its name, a ‘Chia Pet’, which was nothing more than a clay figure of a tree or a sheep that had chia seeds sown in the top. It was not so much a toy, because all you could do with it was water it and wait for it to grow. Neither was it a science-experiment, because it was just a handful of chia seeds responding to photosynthesis in the most transparent way possible. It was literally as exciting as watching grass grow. Yet Zefram still thought about it, how it might bridge one of the gaps between human and Vulcan four-year olds. How a four-year old human’s head would explode when seeing their unkempt Chia Pet after a month’s absence!

One last remark from Skon came right as he had excused himself, his little feet already on his way to the stairs; he had stopped, turned, looked Zefram dead in the eye. Then his hand raised to make a cautious wave. Without thinking further on it, Zefram replied with his own hand. Not one word needed. 

Then Skon could turn on his heel again and head upstairs. Solkar’s gaze was awaiting Zefram after a few seconds had passed. He had been struggling to keep a smile hidden all day, and at that moment, it was most difficult. 

 

Solkar and Zefram moved out into the garden where they could sit on the stone bench in the center of the stone paths. It was another starry night on Vulcan. 

Zefram felt it was his turn to be amazed at the dotted lines in the sky as he directed his thoughts back to that night they had in the Ozarks - how he probably had the same look about him now as Solkar had had then, when they had been sitting around their fire and pointing to the constellations. 

 

And it was Solkar’s turn to observe Zefram, to watch the crinkles in his face change as he put the pictures together in his mind. His mouth was slightly agape in relaxation or thought, either way, Zefram seemed completely unaware. Once he became aware of his watcher, Zefram returned to the ground and huffed a laugh at the knowledge that his and Solkar’s history had repeated itself.

 

“What’re you staring at?” He teased.

“I am staring at you, obviously.” Solkar replied.

“That was a rhetorical question, partner.” 

 

_Partner._ Well, Solkar had gotten used to that, whether he understood it completely or not. He knew it was slang for _friend_ in a midwestern American context, only because of the way Zefram’s intonation was when he pronounced that one word. He had explained that to him. 

 

Solkar pondered briefly if _t’hy’la_ was the closest he could get to a Vulcan equivalent. In one way, _partner_ was a somewhat comical way of addressing a friend. But in another, it was used to describe a mate. Friend, mate, companion for life, all in the same. Just like _t’hy’la_. All depending on context.

 

He then wondered if Zefram would understand the connotations that came with _t’hy’la_ if he explained it like that. That this word bore many meanings, just like some of his Terran words. And that Solkar would describe Zefram with this specific word without question.

 

Zefram broke Solkar from his lost train of thought when he spoke: 

“It’s been a really good day, I think. Went better than I could’ve ever expected.”

“How so?”

“It’s just - I had no expectations for how Skon would react to me and vice versa. Or, more honestly, I had very low expectations.” Zefram laughed but winced a little, too. “Me and kids, it’s always hit or miss. Sometimes I just _get_ them right away, and we can have fun for ages. Like with Skon today. He’s really funny.”

Solkar wanted to laugh, too. “I have never perceived Skon as someone who would be amusing by human standards.” Actually, he couldn’t count any Vulcans he believed would be. 

“He’s funny, but he doesn’t know it.” Zefram wanted to say that he’s funny, like his father. Yet, words don’t always come out the way you want them to.

 

There was silence, but not in Solkar’s head. It was preoccupied with thoughts concerning that morning - specifically when he and Zefram had talked about Skon. And Skon’s mother. 

That was the part of it that clouded Solkar’s mind. He had glossed over their history when telling Zefram about her. He felt guilty for doing that. Something about leaving out parts of the whole picture. At least Solkar could bring himself to tell Zefram the whole truth this time.

 

“Zefram?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember how I told you about Skon’s mother - that she and I could not make raising Skon together work?”

Zefram looked at him. “Yes.”

“I feel that you deserve to know the circumstances surrounding that - all of it, not just the summary that I selected, that I now regret telling you. It is not as simple as a problem with physical distance.” Solkar tried to hold his gaze. His guilt wanted him to look elsewhere.

 

Zefram needed to be closer to him. He did so by placing a hand on his back. “Hey - if it’s too uncomfortable for you to talk about … You really don’t have to do anything for me and my sake. We have things we don’t need others to know. And I don’t want you feeling bad about not telling me this.” 

“I do want you to know. Because it would make us honest with each other again.” Solkar said simply.

Zefram knew he was being truthful from the way he had put it. “Then tell me.”

 

Solkar prepared himself with a breath of the night’s air. “For one, her name is M’Romi.” He paused. “And for you to fully understand what occurred, there are things you will need to know about Vulcans. There are many aspects of Vulcan culture and biology that I am sure seem inconceivable to humans. When I told you about the color of our blood, you looked as if you had never heard anything more unthinkable in your life.” Solkar paused to smile at the memory. But he turned gravely nervous again at the continuation:

 

“Which is why I was hesitant to let you know about M’Romi and why my situation with her is so different from any other Vulcan family living.

Nearly six years ago, I was due for a two month long mission in space, my team was to go to a planet called EK-281. The purpose of it was to research this undiscovered planet, and so we brought in scientists from every subdivision of Vulcan that were also trained for space. M’Romi’s area of expertise is geology, she was going to be on board the team for that mission only.

“The journey to EK-281 would take us 15.8 days. On the fourth day of being on our trajectory to our target, I began to notice the beginning stages of a phase which every Vulcan male goes through. It first arises by lowering your concentration, diminishing your appetite and ability to meditate or sleep - and an exponentially rising and constant feeling of violent irritation.”

 

This was where Solkar hesitated again. He wiped at his palms for a while before he could resume. “The phase is called _pon farr_. And the condition that comes with it is called _plak tow_ \- the ‘blood fever’. It is a natural but brutal part of Vulcan procreation, in which the male is overtaken by an all-encompassing urge to seek his mate, in order to - “ Solkar looked to Zefram for understanding.

 

It didn’t take a lot to piece it together, Zefram nodded at him and made a brief empathic ‘oh’. 

 

Solkar sighed silently. “With the predicament I was in, undergoing space travel and being lightyears from my betrothed, I was not in a position to relieve the _plak tow_. The brutal part of it is the guarantee of succumbing to death from the mental strain if you do not heed its call. I was experiencing the first _pon farr_ of my life, as unprepared as I possibly could have been and on a ship of four other Vulcans. Seeing as three out of four were bonded to mates already, that left M’Romi as my only help for survival.”

 

The silence explained what had happened in that time which Solkar did not wish to describe. 

 

“After returning to Vulcan and finding that M’Romi was pregnant, my estranged betrothed decided to sever our connection. I had been promised to her from the age of seven, but had not interacted much with her since then. Many Vulcans are appointed mates during childhood whom they will experience _pon farr_ with once the time is ripe - but to know that I had fathered another child was enough legal reason for her to annull our engagement. 

“M’Romi bore Skon but was obviously not satisfied with her situation. We were practically strangers beside the fact that we had had a child. She went back to her place of living, disgraced by my transgressions on that mission. She was in her right to react as she did. We could not logically have made a more suited decision without ensuring my death, but it was - far from ideal.”

 

Zefram did not react with disbelief this time. He didn’t have trouble accepting and understanding it, not because he knew it was likely that _pon farr_ was something Vulcans went through, despite him having no previous knowledge of it, but because he relied on Solkar to tell him nothing but the truth.

It made Zefram think about if he was doing the right thing. If he should have told or even tell Solkar now about Monica. He'd been divorced from her for nearly nine years. Zefram hadn’t thought about her for a while now. Back on Earth, he would usually hold down those thoughts and feelings with a drink. He hadn’t been drinking for a while. He hadn’t been thinking about her, not until Solkar told him his story. 

He knew he should have told Solkar about it. Be honest, let him know that Zefram knew how that felt to be so immensely rejected. No, they weren’t all that similar, their scenarios. But it all came back to rejection. 

Zefram didn’t know what it was like to be cut off by your betrothed after experiencing something nearly traumatic that was so out of your grasp. Solkar didn’t know what it was like to love someone for years only to be told that it was never love, that she had been waiting for something better. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Zefram said. Sorry for Solkar’s past and sorry that he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with him.

 

It was a silent night on Vulcan, but Solkar could hear the sound of the camp fire from the Ozarks in his head. Those moments of sitting in the night-air under stars with Zefram came back to him. He reached for his hand. It grounded Solkar like it had so many times before. It was quiet again.

 

* * *

 

Zefram woke up one night, not sure what it was that had taken him out of his sleep. That just happens sometimes. 

What was unusual, was that he woke up with a weight on his face. It turned out to be Solkar’s hand, draped over the left half of his face, but not draped as much as the fingers seemed to be working something. The joints were stiffly posed so that it was only his fingertips resting their weight on him.

 

Zefram almost found it amusing. He turned his eyes just to look at the sleeping figure of Solkar, lying on his stomach, face turned just a bit to see him. He looked like he was dreaming, something was moving around in his head. His eyes were certainly moving under the lids, his brows were furrowing. 

 

But as Zefram took Solkar’s hand to place it from his face and into his own hand instead, Solkar awakened with a sudden inhalation and a twitch running through his entire body. 

 

“Hey,” Zefram whispered softly. “What’s wrong? You looked like you might’ve been having a nightmare.”

 

Solkar steadied his breathing immediately, then propped himself up to an elbow’s height. He looked at Zefram, then to his hand clasped in his, trying to work out what had happened.

“It was not a nightmare. Only a dream.” He answered, but his voice didn’t sound right.

Zefram could sense that. “What happened in it?”

 

Solkar remembered the dream now, although the details were unclear. He saw mountains that looked like those of Gol. He was outside, Zefram was there too. But they weren’t alone. Solkar had turned around to see, at a distance up the mountain, there was a council - the council of Gol, in their robes, standing silently, but definitely looking at Solkar. 

 

He had a choice. The dream depended on it. He could go to the council. Or he could go to Zefram. He could leave his emotions in _kolinahrr_ , or he could become one with Zefram.

 

His heart knew what it wanted even though the anxiety felt so real, with the pressure from Vulcans to have him perform as a Vulcan, to not give yourself to foreign ideas, all that was felt in that moment. 

 

Yet Solkar turned back and reached out to place his hand on Zefram’s shoulder, feeling his katra warming. The hand traveled up to let his fingertips place themselves one by one on Zefram’s psi points. He was smiling through it, accepting it, accepting Solkar.

 

A weak connection was felt, but something wasn’t right. There was no reciprocation. Solkar felt helpless, but not for long, as he was taken out of his dream and into reality once again.

 

He had attempted to meld with Zefram in his sleep. Solkar looked to his hand, feeling overwhelmed by horror. Nothing had happened to Zefram, which was his only relief. You cannot meld completely with someone unknowingly, it was only their initial bond that was made possible even though Zefram hadn’t known that, when he had clasped Solkar’s hand back then. 

 

He worried about his desire to meld becoming too strong for his own good. When he looked into Zefram’s eyes, there it was, right at the pit of his very being. When Zefram kissed his hand to Solkar’s, it was rising up inside him. When they were mating, the desire was overwhelming. Had he been experiencing _plak tow_ , he would not be able to resist forcing a meld. And to force a meld had consequences, ones that Solkar did not like to think about. 

 

“I don’t remember.” Solkar lied to Zefram for the second time.

 

Zefram brushed his other hand over Solkar’s face, lighting up his psi points as his palm passed over them without even knowing they were there. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

 

Solkar laid himself down on Zefram’s chest. He normally liked to listen to the slow beating of the heart inside. It wouldn’t bring him sleep on this night.

 

* * *

 

The day that Zefram’s ship would go back to Earth had to come. His excuse of going to Vulcan to investigate had expired by now, months after first contact. He was sorely missed by his colleagues and unfortunately the press too, according to the transmissions he received through the Vulcan communications team. They had managed to establish a stable link from Earth to Vulcan in just those five months, with only the need of one single human on the Vulcan end that had to talk to Earth. 

 

Solkar could not accompany him to the shuttle that day. He had apparently already backlogged a workload over the course of the last few months, which he was pressured into tending to now more than before. 

Zefram couldn’t make it add up in his mind. In the time he had been there, he thought Solkar had worked just as diligently as any average guy he knew. He could only guess it just wasn’t up to Vulcan standards.

 

Zefram felt oddly stressed out upon going. In turn, that made Solkar feel oddly stressed out upon nearing the deadline for his departure. The bond, although not at its full potential, was unfortunate in this aspect.

There was a moment, one last private hour before the day would start and Zefram would have to lug his things to the station. The moment of Solkar and Zefram in their vast bedroom, dressed for the day but both of them unwilling to leave the room. 

 

Both had an air of misery about them, the tension and silence was thick. Zefram had an idea on how to potentially solve it. His hand went out of his long sleeve, waiting in front of Solkar for him to shake it. 

Solkar looked to it, then up to Zefram. His eyebrow raised at the realization. But he also smiled. He took his hand and then a deep breath upon experiencing the refreshing feeling in his katra.

 

Zefram wanted to lean over and kiss Solkar again. Just once more, for now. The anxiety within doubted _when_ the two would see each other again. But his confidence reminded him that they _would_. And he knew that this was enough. It would be best to leave them with this.

 

Solkar wished now more than ever before that he would have had the courage to ask Zefram to meld with him. It would ensure their bond’s strength across their planetary distance. Both could benefit from it in so many ways. But Solkar feared just as strongly that it would be impossible for Zefram to understand what repercussions a bond had as well. 

 

They would eventually have to let go. And Solkar would be going back to the Vulcan Science Academy while Zefram would be going to the station. But as long as they stayed in that room, they could hold onto each other’s hand.

 

* * *

 

As news of Zefram Cochrane’s disappearance broke interplanetary bulletins, speculation began on the likely occurrence that he had died. 

The only person who knew with certainty that he was alive, was Solkar. Even though they were systems apart, the bond was alive. Which meant Zefram was, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! Finaaaalllyyy! I finished this, the (as of now) final chapter of my series. I don't see a continuation on this in the immediate future, although I do want to explore the alternative ending in which Solkar does return to Earth(just like in one of my previous fics, my latest one about these two dudes) and begins a life with Zefram. It would involve more Skon as well. I love the Skon that I've created lol
> 
> As if I was not canon-divergent enough, I’d like to just note here that Zefram’s marriage to Monica Burke, whoever she was, probably happened around the 2110’s according to memory beta, so farther into the future than this fic permits. In my own private canon, it makes sense for me to view Zefram as a character that had been unhappily married before the 2060's and the events of First Contact. We know he has, to put it mildly, had a rough time up until his success with the warp launch. And although I don’t address his alcoholism in my fics(or I do a little, but not really), because I feel like I’m not really qualified to talk about it, his addiction generally points toward being a reaction to misery. War, divorce, consistent failures in his career - it seems likely that he’d been through them all by 2063, in my opinion. It’s my headcanon, anyway.
> 
> If you have something to say about what you've read, I'd love to hear it as always, I love a comment. Other than that, thank you for reading this !


End file.
